


Three of Cups

by CeslaToil



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Cuddles, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Implied Smut, Multi, Slice of Life, THERE’S ONLY ONE BED, Vacations, rebound hookups, snuggles, takes place after Nadia's Upright Ending, unrequited pining, vollyball
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-10-31 15:06:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17851886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeslaToil/pseuds/CeslaToil
Summary: After months of stressful wedding plans and preparations, Countess Nadia and Foxglove the Magician decide to take a break with their friends on peaceful Ridorwayte Island. Things take a turn for the unexpected, however, when Lucio decides to invite himself along!





	1. Chapter One

Foxglove woke to the sound of birds chirping outside her window. Lazily opening her eyes, the young magician took in the sight of the simple cottage bedroom she, Nadia and Portia had taken up in for their stay on Ridorwayte Island. Radiant sunshine brightened up the cozy, lilac colored room, promising a beautiful day outside.

Portia slept in a day bed sandwiched between an apple wood wardrobe and a bookshelf cluttered with well worn books. She’d wrapped herself tightly in a white fluffy blanket, with only a few tresses of fiery red hair visible from under the covers.

Nadia, meanwhile, slept next to Foxglove, a faint smile resting on her lips as she dreamed away. Foxglove couldn’t help but match that grin: her fiancée was lovely even in the depths of sleep. Foxglove gently ran her fingers through Nadia’s smooth, Tyrian hair; by the time Nadia had woken up, Foxglove had worked a few of her locks into delicate plaits.

“Darling,” sighed Nadia, “it’s still early— why don’t you rest a little longer?”

“I’m not sure I can,” whispered Foxglove. “I’m always pretty restless when I wake up in the morning.”

“All the same,” murmured Nadia, “we’ve been so busy for the past two months with wedding plans— wasn’t it your idea to take a break and relax for a week?”

“Ah… yeah, I suppose it was,” said Foxglove, blushing. “Tell you what, Nadi: I’ll bring us up some breakfast in bed. I saw some fresh milk and a plate of honeycomb Madame Smith left for us in the icebox yesterday— maybe some of that with the blueberry scones we got at Selasi before we left Vesuvia? Technically, that counts as resting.”

“That sounds wonderful,” said Nadia, smiling. She pulled Foxglove close, and planted a sweet kiss on her lips before the magician crawled out of bed and out the door.

“Be back soon!”

Foxglove tiptoed down the hall towards the stairs. She could see Muriel and Asra still sleeping in their own room, curled together in an enormous bed. Wishing not to wake them, Foxglove held her breath as she passed by their room. The door to Julian’s room was shut tight, but as Foxglove could hear movement downstairs m, she assumed he was also awake.  _Maybe he’ll help me with breakfast_ , thought Foxglove cheerfully.  _That’d be a nice way to start this vacation!_

This thought was, of course, shattered when Foxglove entered the kitchen downstairs, where none other than Lucio, disgraced count of Vesuvia, was hunched over the table, greedily stuffing his face (which was smeared with honey) full of scones.

            Foxglove stared at the Count. The Count stared back at Foxglove. Neither liked what they were looking at. It wasn’t unlike finding an old, slobbering raccoon digging through the trash, except most raccoons have the good sense to look a little ashamed for breaking into a garbage can. Lucio was incapable of shame.

            Foxglove was stricken with a jolt of anxiety _. Lucio’s in the house. He’s in the house? What is this creep doing inside the house?!_

            Worry then gave way to fury, and without a second thought, Foxglove summoned every ounce of magic within her soul.

            “ _Get out!_ ”

There was a loud bang, and a flash of green smoke that filled the room from floor to ceiling. Lucio screeched, a high, piercing noise that could rupture ear drums. Foxglove hid a smirk; she knew that the smokescreen spell was just smoke sans mirrors. Lucio wasn’t the shiniest crystal in a cluster, but he’d eventually figure out the spell was harmless too.

But until then…

“Lorum Ipsum! Pip pip, da doodly doo!” Foxglove sent more loud, colorful plumes of smoke chasing after Lucio, who screamed and ran clumsily all over the kitchen, knocking over furniture and upsetting pots and pans wherever he went.

“Yeah, that’s right, run away jerk! Higglety Pigglety! Fiddle dee dee! Abracafu--”

“What is going on here?”

Foxglove’s mad chase came to a halt. The entire house had come down to investigate the commotion: Nadia took the lead with Portia and Asra at her side, followed by Muriel, who clutched Asra’s slight shoulders with his large, calloused hands, and at the rear was Julian, leaning his long body against the staircase as he stifled a laugh at the scene in the kitchen.

Foxglove tried to explain, but Lucio kept talking over her every time she spoke.

“I found him in the kitchen; he must have broken in somehow—”

“She just barged down here and started shooting her hocus pocus at me, Noddy, like some kind of savage—”

“He probably snuck onto the ferry and followed us to Madame Smith’s house—”

“She ruined my breakfast!”

“You _stole_ our breakfast!”

“Well, uh, _you_ stole _my_ wife—”

“Enough!”

Nadia pinched the bridge of her nose, the unmistakable sign of another splitting headache coming on.

“Lucio,” Nadia sighed, “Last we spoke, I told you, under no uncertain terms, that you were banished from Vesuvia and all associated towns. Yet here you stand. Would you kindly explain _why_ you’ve decided to inflict your presence on us?”

The look Nadia gave her ex husband would have withered a field of flowers into dust. Lucio had at least enough sense to look a little intimidated, before putting that infuriating, oily smile of his back on his pale, pointed face.

“But Noddy,” said Lucio unctuously, “Ridorwayte Island isn’t part of Vesuvia at all—It’s privately owned by Madame Smith! I’m allowed to be here if I want!”

It was true: Madame Smith was a mysterious artist who’d amassed a fortune painting for the royal family of Prakra, enough to buy a small island in the middle of a vast lake near the mountains. She happily rented out cabins on her island while she went on lengthy travels, which was how Nadia’s group had arrived in the first place. But all the same, that didn’t explain why Lucio was in this particular cabin at that exact moment.

“I don’t really see why you would be here of all places is the thing,” Julian drawled from the staircase.

“Yeah, what’s your problem,” snapped Portia, narrowing her eyes suspiciously at the Count.

“It was bad enough when you were stalking us as a smelly goat demon,” snapped Asra, “No one wants to put up with you on vacation!”

“Get out.” Muriel glowered at the Count. Foxglove swore she could see a gloss of nervous sweat pooling around Lucio’s temples. However, he quickly recovered.

“Why, haven’t you heard, my dearest friends?” He pulled out a thin scroll of paper from out of his coat pocket. Foxglove could make out the phrase “Lease Agreement” printed at the top of the delicate yellow paper.

“This,” said Lucio, waving his golden arm with theatrical flair, “Is my new home!”


	2. Chapter Two

            “What in the world are you talking about?” Nadia marched over to Lucio and snatched the scroll out of his hand. Her crimson eyes scanned over the lease agreement, searching for any sign of forgery.

            “Take it,” shrugged Lucio, “I have others. But it remains the same: starting immediately, I’m renting this house while Madame Smith is out on one of her artistic journeys.”

            “Bullcrap,” spat Portia. “Milady rented this house for the week; Madame Smith never mentioned you’d be here at all!”

            “It must have slipped her memory,” Lucio drawled. “She is getting pretty old and feeble minded, after all.”

            Asra and Foxglove glanced at one another; they wore identical, mischievous expressions. It took all of Foxglove’s self control to keep from laughing.

            “Well, you can’t fault her for that,” Foxglove nodded at Lucio, “You are pretty forgettable.”

            Lucio scoffed. “Nobody ever forgets about _me_ , peasant!”

            “How old are you again, Lucio,” asked Asra wryly, “Fifty five? Sixty? It seems rude of you to make fun of poor Madame Smith while you’re aging away like spoiled yak milk.”

            “I’m thirty nine,” Lucio sputtered, a flustered, angry flush staining his pallor like spilled wine; “hold your tongue before I have it ripped out!”

            “Yeah Asra,” Julian stage whispered, “Learn to respect your elders!”

            “JULES! YOU’RE THE SAME AGE AS ME—”

            “Everyone be quiet!” Nadia’s voice boomed like a cannon, nearly rattling the walls of the cottage in its fury. Once everyone had fallen silent, Nadia closed her eyes, sighed, and handed the scroll back to Lucio.

            “Unfortunately, it seems that the lease agreement is genuine.” Nadia’s lips curled in disgust. “I hate to admit it, but by rights, Lucio is allowed to be here just as much as we are.”

            “Aha!” Lucio pumped his fist in the air triumphantly. Everyone else groaned; would they really have to spend the week stuck on an island with Lucio?

            “Now that’s all in order,” said Lucio, ignoring the mood of the room, “you, servant girl! Take my bags upstairs and make my bed for me! Hop to it!”

            “I’d rather eat a plague beetle,” snapped Portia.

            “You really don’t,” Julian shuddered.

            “Portia doesn’t answer to you, Lucio.” Nadia glowered down at her ex husband, who was, unusually, at a loss for words. “She is my guest and dear friend; for that matter, I won’t tolerate you harassing any of my friends or my beloved Foxglove, no matter what’s written on that paper.”

            “But Noddy, you can’t expect me to just fend for myself,” Lucio whined. He stomped his foot; his lips morphed into a petulant pout. “I’m a great man used to a certain level of accommodation, so I better get what I want!”

            Lucio began to list a tedious number of demands, which included, among other things, boxes of fine Nopalese chocolates, a full cask of Amontillado, and shiatsu back massages, but hardly anyone seemed to listen. Midway through the rant, Muriel broke away from the group and stormed out of the house without a word, slamming the front door behind him with a loud _bang!_

            “Oh no,” said Nadia, her brows drawing together in concern. Asra immediately ran after Muriel; he pushed past the count as he bounded out the door.

            “Hrmph! Where do they think they’re running off too?” Lucio glowered after the couple’s retreating figures.

            “Oh, just can it, granny,” Foxglove snapped. Without paying any mind to the offended squeak that served as Lucio’s witty retort, Foxglove followed after her friends, with Nadia and the Devorak siblings close behind.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! Sorry I haven't updated sooner, my work hours have been pretty lengthy and stressful this week-- I had a nice relaxing weekend however, and that refreshed me enough to get this next update out! My goal is to update at least once every other week; feel free to leave any constructive comments! (Also I am absolutely shit when it comes to correcting typos, you won't hurt my feelings if you point them out, that way I can go back and fix them!)

The shores of Ridorwayte Island were Madame Smith’s most frequent subjects in her paintings, and it was easy to see why. With waters as smooth and clear as crystal, soft, white sand dunes that lined the shores like plush pillows, and tide pools brimming with strange, colorful sea life, Ridorwayte was a picturesque paradise.

It really was too bad Asra and Muriel were ruining the placid environment that morning. By the time Foxglove and the rest of the gang caught up with the couple, the two were caught in a conflict that neither seemed to be winning. Muriel was struggling towards the water’s edge, feet dragging into the sand with each step, but Asra, who’d wrapped his legs around Muriel’s waist, held him back. Foxglove recognized a faint, white aura around Asra that could only be the Light as a Feather spell: tethered only to Muriel, Asra was levitating in the air like the world’s most handsome balloon.

“Let go.” Muriel was scowling, but made no effort to remove Asra from his back.

“I will,” said Asra calmly, “as long as you promise not to swim back to the mainland.”

“Nope.”

“Then I’m staying right here until you change your mind.” Asra began to lift further into the air, dragging Muriel at least a foot from the ground with him (no small feat, as Muriel was the twice the size and muscle mass of his lover).

Muriel kicked in the air; when that proved futile, a stormy shadow clouded over his face.

“I’m not staying here with Lucio in the house. I… I can’t.”

“Muriel.” Nadia’s voice was warm and soothing like chamomile tea. “I understand your hesitation—Lucio’s hurt all of us, perhaps you most of all—but I promise you, dear friend, that I won’t allow him to harass any one of us ever again, not here, not anywhere.”

“Yeah,” said Portia, her eyes twinkling mischievously, “If he tries giving you any crap, me and Foxglove will beat him up for you, right Foxglove?”

“Damn straight!” Foxglove pounded her fist into her opposite hand.

Muriel said nothing, but he stopped kicking, a small smile gracing his lips once he’d relaxed.

            “How about it, old friend?” Asra weaved his fingers gently through Muriel’s thick, dark hair. “Won’t you stay?”

            “I will,” sighed Muriel. “But he’s not staying in our room.” Asra slowly floated back down to the beach, careful to land Muriel on his feet before hopping to the ground himself.

            “That does raise a good question,” said Julian, frowning. “We’ve pretty much filled all the rooms in the cottage—where would Lucio even stay?”

            “That… is what I thought I’d bring up with you, doctor,” said Nadia, looking deeply uncomfortable. “You see, Foxglove, Portia and myself have pretty much packed our room to capacity, and as Muriel insists he won’t have Lucio staying with him at all… That does only leave—”

            “—My room,” Julian gulped. “Right. That’s what I get for not taking the couch when I had the chance.”

            “You could stay with me and Muriel if you’d like, Jules,” said Asra.

            “He can?” Muriel frowned.

            “Of course he can,” said Asra cheerfully. “We have a spare chaise in our room, you could sleep there!”

            Foxglove thought she saw a momentary flicker of sadness in Julian’s eyes, but it vanished like smoke with a shake of his head.

            “Oh, I couldn’t impose,” said Julian, “and besides: that bed does wonders for my back. Wouldn’t give it up for all the emeralds in Prakra.”

            “Thank you, Julian,” said Nadia. She took hold of Julian’s hand, squeezing it gently. “I promise as soon as we’re back in Vesuvia, I’ll make it up to you.”

            “I’ll certainly be _counting_ on it! Get it—counting, countess?”

            Foxglove and Portia immediately began booing Julian’s terrible puns.

            “That’s enough,” laughed Nadia, “let’s head back inside—I think we’d all like to get our day started; the sooner we’re all dressed and Lucio’s settled in, the sooner we can ditch him for a few hours of peace.”


End file.
